


Headcanon Accepted

by spae



Series: Dangerous Hobby [10]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Characters Reading Fanfiction, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 02:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15698103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spae/pseuds/spae
Summary: What they did at the weekend.





	Headcanon Accepted

Tony 

Tony had sent the email on the Sunday after tittivating it a little on Saturday morning, but the rest of Saturday was spent investigating a pretty bloody assault on a Petty Officer in Ops. It turned out to be a fight between him and one of the postal clerks; the clerk had been pretty handy with his fists, and the aggressor had gotten a hiding. Tony found it quite exhilarating to investigate, but it was over far too soon, and then it was a pretty humdrum affair, done and dusted quickly with their CO choosing to take over the investigation and keep it in-house, so Tony’s part in the proceedings came to a halt.  

On Sunday, he visited the medical centre early, just to be a warning presence, and then tucked himself away until lunchtime to edit his latest story. It was a bit of an angst-fest, to use fic-writer’s parlance, but his headspace since the call with Gibbs and McGee last week wasn’t anywhere healthy. He was coming to the conclusion that his posting wasn’t temporary; despite the rest of the team being recalled back to HQ, there was a glaring omission in his own case. He tried not to think about it, tried not to let it get to him, tried to bury himself in … fic, evidently. 

His latest story was gen fic, which surprised the crap out of him when he came to label it. It had section chief Jessie Herder killed in the opening act. The rest of the fic was fallout from that mess in flashbacks and real-time investigation, with FBI, Miami PD and the DEA all trying to horn in on the investigation, with endless scandal being uncovered. The kicker was Agent Tommy was in the crosshairs for not providing the appropriate protection for the unfortunate Jessie. At every turn, someone wanting someone to blame found an easy target in the lackadaisical Tommy, and no amount of counter-orders from Jessie herself were considered reason enough to remove the condemnation now she was dead. She was deemed incompetent, and Tommy was told he should have disregarded her orders, despite not knowing the depths of trouble she had gotten herself into. If she’d lived, she would have been livid to hear how they spoke about her, but if she’d lived, he wouldn’t have needed her support. The fic ended with an angry new section chief reassigning all the agents to the wind, leaving Gibbs with a new team, and his old team were left to mourn the loss of their chief, abandoned in isolation and confusion. A thread of betrayal ran through the whole story and Tony finished it with Agent Tommy literally out in the cold, sitting up in the Northwest Field Office in Alaska writing his resignation.  

It was probably his most autobiographical story yet.  

He spent a couple of hours tweaking the odd word, and taking out anything which felt too dramatic – he wasn’t a seventeen year old and he wouldn’t lower himself to write like one. Despite the comment he’d written in the Q&A, he had no plans to ever write a sequel. What would it do, chart the life of unemployed bum Tommy drinking himself to oblivion? No thanks.  

That afternoon, Tony took a few hours off, just wandering the ship. As the thought came to him that he was saying goodbye, he suppressed it ruthlessly and went for a run instead. Around the ship. 

On Monday he posted the fic with the title _All Good Things_ and closed the website down. Then he went back to being an Agent Afloat.   

 

Tim 

Tim spent the weekend in boxers and a t-shirt of increasingly ripeness reading fic, falling asleep in his clothes and waking only to continue reading. It was Sunday lunchtime when he eventually caught a whiff of himself and went for a shower, throwing his clothes into the washer.  

He was beginning to think he might learn something about writing from fanfiction, especially as some of the authors were awesome. Well, _their stories were_. He’d branched out from TSM4’s writing and found a few gen fics which were just _satisfying_. Like ice-cream and hot coffee and cuddles and driving really fast with the top down all at once. Comforting _and_ exhilarating. 

He took the rubbish out, just so he could tell himself he’d been outside today, and found himself over the road at the local Starbucks, drawn by the aroma of roasting beans. It was evidently a felicitous moment, as he discovered a book club meeting in the comfy chairs in the furthest corner. 

“Do they meet every week?” Tim asked the barista, curiously eyeing the small group of women.  

“Fortnightly,” he replied, frothing the milk expertly. “I don’t think they’d mind a newbie, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Um. I don’t know.” Tim fiddled with his wallet nervously. “What sort of things do they do?” 

The barista smirked and shrugged. “Twelve dollars, dude.” 

Tim handed him a note and slid his cookie into his coat pocket, waiting for his change, which came quickly. He took himself off to the sugar station to add more than he ought to have, stirring and attaching the lid with the skill of a repeat offender. 

On his way out, the barista was over talking to the book club ladies and Tim felt weird about approaching them. Maybe he’d do it another time, when he was more awake – 

“Hey dude,” the barista called out before he could go through the door. “Wait up!”  

Tim felt heat rising through his face, but changed course, weaving his way round tables toward the group where the barista had beckoned him.  

“Hey,” he said the sea of interested faces.  

“Hey,” they chorused back.  

“He wants to know what sort of stuff you all read, so you’ll be pleased to know I didn’t tell him it was all seduction, sluttiness and smut,” the barista introduced him with a wink.  

Gurgling laughter and cries of “LIES!” greeted this sally, but it had successfully broken the ice.  

“Sit down, new guy, and ignore him,” a blonde with tumbling curls all bunched up in a rag admonished. “And go _away_ , Zak.” 

“And don’t come back until you have Apology Cookies!”  

“We’re all out,” deadpanned Zak, with a grin. “Sorry not sorry, dude.” 

Tim, now red all over, found himself being pulled down to a seat as Zak sauntered back to his counter.  

“Well, it’s not all lies, of course,” a tiny brunette remarked with a wink. “We are red-blooded women, you know!” 

“But we like a good thriller as much as the next book club!” added a girl with a chic ice-blonde bob. 

“We like the _thrills_ , Alice,” the tiny brunette smirked.  

Curly blonde took pity on him. “I’m Jo, this is Alice,” she waved at the girl with the bob. “Cat over there,” she indicated a girl with a short pixie-cut in lilac hues. “Kenzie with the mouth!” (Tiny brunette Kenzie gave her the finger.) “And Elanor, next to you.” She indicated the last girl with myriad freckles and sandy hair caught up in a ponytail. 

Tim nodded to each girl in turn, cataloguing names and hair colours in lieu of faces.  

“I’m Tim,” he said uncomfortably. “I-“ 

“We’re missing Jules and Ollie today, as they’re on court-mandated vacation – oh _no_ , I just mean they’re workaholics, so we bought them a holiday and forced them to go on it!” Jo backtracked at Tim’s wide-eyed reaction.  

“Ah,” he said, for something to say, feeling uncomfortably like he’d crashed a meeting of friends, instead of a book club. 

“Oh no, don’t look like that,” Alice smiled at him. “We _are_ a real book club, we’re just known each other for a while.” 

“After many extensive conference calls on IM, we decided to do it in a place we can have coffee and cookies,” added Jo. 

“It’s just sad we can’t do it in our peejays,” lamented Elanor.  

They all laughed.

Tim, who’d spent most of his weekend in his nightwear, smiled too. 

“And we don’t mind new people joining us,” Alice continued. “Or thinking about joining us.” 

“Or thinking of running away,” Kenzie said drily.  

“Guilty, on all counts!” Tim gestured helplessly with his hands. “I guess I didn’t know, I mean. I just wondered what sort of books you look at and what the format of your meetings are. See if it was something I’d be comfortable with.” 

There was a low hum of chuckling around the group. Tim took refuge in his coffee.  

“We-e-e-e-e-ell, Tim,” Cat sat forward. “We’re not very formal. And we’re pretty liberal. And we pretty much read every genre.” 

“And sometimes we meet up just to squee…al,” Elanor amended. “We read online a lot. And blog about it.” 

“Reviews and such?” Tim asked. 

“Oh yeah, sometimes those too,” Elanor agreed. “We’re _really not_   very formal.” 

“And sometimes we RP – that’s roleplay, you ever heard of that?” Cat asked. 

Tim, feeling a little weirded out to not be instantly recognised as a geek, nodded.  

“Well, sometimes we do that. Aragorn and Legolas, scouting the wilds of Andor, taking refuge in a cave …” Kenzie smirked.  

Alice laughed. “And Dr McCoy, scolding an errant Kirk and Spock after a disastrous mission!” 

“It _is_ very important to have a good understanding of canon before you can dive into that sort of thing,” nodded Cat, mock-seriously. 

“Hence the book club,” Elanor smiled. “We’re all _Tolkien_ fans here.” 

“And sixties tv shows, evidently,” Tim smiled back. 

“Well, not just sixties tv,” Jo laughed. “Any tv is fair game. Even tv without any _official_ literature.” 

“That’s what they call book tie-ins,” Cat shook her head. “ _Literature_.” 

“Love me a bit of _literature_ ,” Jo sighed, to a murmur of agreement. 

“What do you like, Tim?” Kenzie asked suddenly. “What floats your boat?” 

Tim, surprised out of his train of thought, was flustered by the question.

“Um, I like crime-solving stories, I guess. Murder mysteries, I suppose. That sort of thing.” 

“You don’t sound too sure,” Elanor remarked sagely. 

Truer words were never spoken, Tim thought.  

“I’ve sort-of been, um, broadening my horizons, recently,” he admitted. “Reading some … online stories.” 

Five pairs of eyes watched him, their owners’ bodies struck with an eerie stillness, until Alice leaned forward. 

“Oh?” she asked lightly. “Which website?” 

“The, um, _Deep Six_ website,” Tim mumbled. “Some fans –” 

“Why, Tim!” Kenzie lowered her voice to an unholy pitch. “Have you been _reading fanfiction_?” 

Tim’s blush, which had gone away, came back in a wave. He hid behind his coffee cup. 

“Um.” 

“I think that’s a _yes_ ,” Cat sat back with a Cheshire smile. 

It was evidently catching, as they all crowed loudly, hilarity spilling out across the café and making Zak look up.  

“Tim,” Jo patted his arm. “It’s quite all right, you know. This book club is like Fanficcers’ Anonymous.” 

“Except for the anonymous bit,” Kenzie interposed. “Because we all know your name.” 

“I’m on that site,” Alice shared a gentle smile. “I’m BlackAlys.” 

“You’re BlackAlys everywhere,” Cat kicked her. “I’m NinjaGirl on that site. And I think Jules and Ollie are on there too?” she asked.  

“Yeah, probably,” Alice said. “They’re in a lot of fandoms.” 

“But the important question,” Kenzie asked again evilly, “is _What floats your boat?_ ” 

“Uh,” Tim started. 

“No no no, the important question is _What’s your handle?_ ” Cat asked, with waggling eyebrows.  

Tim found himself dying a little inside. 

“Er… my username is ThomEGemcity,” he admitted. 

Alice and Cat stared. 

“Whaaaaaat?” 

“You’re the AUTHOR?” 

The general hubbub and shrieking drowned his spluttering, and he took refuge in the last of his coffee, lukewarm though it was.  

“Oh fuck, we need to start this conversation again,” Kenzie laughed. “I cannot believe we have an author who reads fanfic of his own work in our book club. I AM SO PROUD!” 

“Oh, _wait_ ,” Tim started. 

“Oh _no_ ,” five pairs of hands stopped him getting up.  

“No takebacks, Tim,” Elanor grinned. “You’re part of our group now, and we meet FORTNIGHTLY for lunch and a leisurely afternoon discussion of important _literature_.” 

Five women smiled beatifically at him. Tim glanced helplessly around and slumped, outnumbered. 

“And now,” Kenzie was like a dog with a bone. “Since you’re part of our group and all, what’s so interesting about your own fanfic that it’s got you reading it?” 

“Well …” Tim gave a vastly edited version of how he stumbled onto fanfiction, then, “and the first fic I found was this pirate saga by TSM4, which was just so–” 

“TSM4?!” Alice and Cat squealed in unison.   

“Oh Em Gee, you hit the jackpot there!” Cat sighed in happy memory.  

Kenzie, Jo and Elanor wore similar mystified smiles. 

“Tibbs and Tommy,” Alice breathed, sinking back into her chair. “Oh Tee Pee forever!” 

Jo looked around the group, from Tim’s faintly embarrassed smile to Alice and Cat’s happy expressions. 

“I think we’ve found our next book to read,” she announced. “What’s it called, Tim? _Deep Six?_ ” 

“Yeah,” he said, ignoring the supremely long subtitle. “I have some spare copies if you want.” 

They all beamed at him, and he went to collect them before Zak was likely to come over to kick them all out.   

Afterwards, Tim wandered back up his apartment in a haze of good feelings, looking forward to meeting up with his book club again.   

 

Abby 

Abby spent the weekend working.  

On Saturday she was delighted to receive another postcard from Tony which she put up on her glass with a bittersweet little smile and a murmured, “Love you too, Tony.” 

She finalised her findings for a particular case she was working on, then cleared a backlog of out-of-date supplies and set all her machines to self-cleaning, before sitting down and ordering some new supplies for the next month, all the while listening to the _Caught-out Casefiles_ podfics which _MyFairTommy_ had done in her cool Californian accent. 

The day went like a breeze, and by the time the seventh story had finished, Abby had finished lots of other busywork, tidying and sorting and re-organising the artwork on the wall. That evening, she met up with a friend for a meal and went to bed feeling accomplished.  

On Sunday she went to a Forensic Scene Investigators’ conference where she made a list of all the new cutting edge tech she wanted on cute skeleton notepaper, and waltzed out of the auditorium buzzing with ideas. 

And that night she wrote a new postcard to Tony, decorated it with a heart with a padlock on it, drawing a tiny Abby with the key on a chain round her own neck. She’d post it on her way into work tomorrow.


End file.
